


Remembering Faces

by ericsonclan



Category: The Walking Dead (Telltale Video Game)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Loss, Memorials, Memories, Past Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:07:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26017774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ericsonclan/pseuds/ericsonclan
Summary: Clementine sees Louis drawing something at the picnic tables and walks over to find the reason behind his actions is a somber one.
Relationships: Clementine/Louis (Walking Dead: Done Running)
Kudos: 22





	Remembering Faces

**Author's Note:**

> (by Laura)

Clementine made her way out to the front yard on her crutches. Willy was in the midst of reworking her prosthetic, so it was back to crutches for the next few days. It was pretty quiet out front. Aasim was on watch. Violet pushed AJ in the tire swing. Omar and Ruby must be working in the greenhouse. And Louis sat at one of the picnic tables, a look of concentration on his face as he sketched on a plain piece of paper. Curious to see what he was up to, Clementine made her way over to him, her crutches swinging lightly as she moved quickly across the lawn. “Looks like your artistic talents go beyond music,”

Louis looked up at the compliment, giving his girlfriend a small smile. “Hey, Clem. Crutches treating you alright?”

“Well enough,” Clementine leaned them against the table before plopping down next to him. “What are you drawing?”

Louis’ arm was covering his work. Reluctantly, he pulled the paper back to reveal a picture of a tall, chestnut-haired boy. 

Clementine squinted at it a second before her eyes widened in recognition. “Is that Mitch?”

“Yeah. The best likeness I can get of him anyway,” Louis looked down at the paper in disappointment. “I wanted to capture something on paper, you know, before the memories fade. But I can’t draw him right,”

“I could tell it was him,”

Louis’ shook his head. “That’s not enough. I want to be able to take out this drawing to show someone someday and say, ‘That’s Mitch’. Have all the little details right, like the way he used to smile every time Willy said something stupid or how his hair always used to get into his eyes when he was busy concentrating on something. Stuff like that,” Louis shifted the piece of paper to the side and Clementine saw that there were several underneath it. Those pages held portraits of Brody, Tenn, Marlon and the twins.

Clementine looked over at Louis with concern. She could tell that this was bothering him in a deeper sense than artistic inability. This was his only shot at remembering what his friends looked like. Remembering his family. She laid a hand on top of Louis’, causing him to look over at her. “Would you like me to try too? I’m sure it wouldn’t be perfect, but maybe I can help get some other details right. With practice I’m sure we’ll both get better,”

Louis’ expression softened at her offer. “Thanks. I appreciate it,” He handed her a fresh sheet of paper and the two of them got to work. 

After a while, A.J. came over to check on what they were doing. He wanted to join in, so Louis handed him a piece of paper and a box of crayons since he and Clem were using all the pencils. Violet sat next to A.J. and across from Louis, commenting that for all she knew their drawings were perfect, but she couldn’t see shit so she’d never know. She and Louis soon fell into conversation, reminiscing about their fallen friends. Brody, Mitch and Tenn were all spoken of fondly. Marlon and the twins were skirted over, though kind, soft-spoken words were offered toward each of them. Clementine listened in, enjoying seeing their faces light up at the memories and wishing she’d had longer with those they’d lost.

Violet, despite protests on her part, eventually was convinced by Louis to give drawing a try. She hunched over her paper, eyes narrowed in concentration as she tried her best to draw both Minnie and Sophie. A.J. had drawn Tenn and proudly showed the picture to Clem and Louis before a thoughtful expression came across his face and he declared he was going to check on Willy, running off without another word. Clementine considered pursuing him but decided against it. A.J. deserved some space to think. She would bring it up later though, at a time where they could talk alone for as long as needed. 

She turned back to Louis who was up to his third sketch of Marlon. His tongue stuck slightly out of his mouth as he was fully engrossed in getting the color right on Marlon’s eyes. Clementine glanced at her own drawings. They were sketchy and ephemeral at best. Her relationships with Marlon and Brody had been so short, barely two days. The memories of them were complex and deep-seated. She’d tried to capture Brody’s kindness and the hope in her eyes when she’d talked about travelling. For Marlon she’d focused on her earlier memories of him, as the open-handed, giving leader of this group of kids. She wanted to draw him as Louis’ best friend, not what he’d become at the very end.

Her relationships with Mitch and Tenn had lasted longer. Both of their deaths still stung despite the myriad of losses she’d experienced. She’d done her best to replicate the bomb Mitch had worked on and how his brows had furrowed in annoyance as he worked so desperately to get it working so he could protect the school. They’d barely just warmed up to each other by the time he was gone. Clementine wished they’d had longer together. And Tenn… his expression still haunted her, the look of shock as he turned back to see A.J. and realized what he’d done before the life drained from his eyes. Had there been another way to save him and Louis, one she simply couldn’t see? Clementine would never know. 

Eventually Ruby and Omar finished with dinner prep and everyone was called to eat. The papers and art supplies were tucked away as they ate their nightly stew and continued to reminisce of days gone by. Everyone laughed at stories of Louis’ and Marlon’s escapades and delighted in recalling all the dumbass stunts Mitch had pulled with knives and other makeshift weapons over the years. Ruby got a little teary-eyed remembering some of her favorite times with Brody and Violet spoke softly and fondly of Tenn, Sophie, and occasionally Minnie. The truths of their friends’ final moments and deaths felt so divorced from who they’d been in life. It was good to talk of happier times even though the memories refreshed dulled aches within their hearts. 

After dinner Louis tenderly took Clementine’s hand in his own. Leaning forward, he placed a kiss on her cheek before whispering in her ear. “Do you have time to stop by the music room? There’s something I want to share with you,”

Clementine nodded. Gathering her crutches, she followed Louis whose arms were full of art supplies. They made their way into the admin building, the soft rustle of dead leaves the only sound besides their footsteps in the empty rooms. Louis held the door open for Clementine before moving to put the art supplies away and grab something from one of the shelves. Clementine headed straight for the couch. Sitting down, she watched Louis as he used a chair to reach one of the highest shelves, pulling a small box down then walking over to join her on the couch. Prying off the lid, Louis revealed a series of drawings within, portraits of children and teens Clementine didn’t recognize.

“These were all drawn by Sophie,” Louis picked up one of the drawings, holding it out to Clementine. She took it in her own hands. It was a portrait of a young boy with large, thick-rimmed glasses upon his face. “She drew them throughout the years whenever we lost one of the kids. It was her way of honoring them, keeping a piece of them with of us so we’d always remember them,” Louis tapped on the drawing Clementine held. “That was Dewey. We lost him on the first night that walkers attacked the school. He was in the same room as me and Marlon, in the bunk across from us,” He pulled out another drawing, this one a portrait of a Latina girl who looked to be in her mid-teens. “Therissa was one of the strongest kids back when all this began. She helped figure out how to hunt and would always keep a level head whenever arguments broke out. She got bit while out hunting one day. Mitch had to-” Louis paused, his voice tightening. “He was the last one with her,”

Clementine took Louis’ hand in her own, gently rubbing her thumb along its side. It was sweet to see how much Louis cared but saddening at the same time. He had trauma just like her, pain she couldn’t touch. Silently, she reached into the box, pulling out another picture. A pale, thin boy stared back at her, his eyes issuing a challenge.

“That was Justin,” Louis’ tone grew somber. “He got a bunch of kids killed a few years back when they went way out past the school. Got into a huge fight with Marlon and somehow had the fucking nerve to blame it all on him. Some of the other kids agreed and left with Justin the next morning. We lost seven kids in two days. But Sophie still drew him and all the others that left. She said they should still be remembered in spite of all that,” There was a shuffling sound beside Louis and Clementine realized that he had placed all the portraits they’d drawn today beside him. “I figure if kids like that got a place in here, then Minnie and Marlon deserve one too,” He tucked the papers at the bottom of the stack before placing the lid back on the box.

“I’m glad you have them to remember everyone by,” Clementine murmured.

Louis nodded. “Tenn and Brody cleared out so much of Sophie’s art in the days following her and Minnie’s, well, disappearance. Most of it got buried at their graves. But I figured Sophie would want us to hold onto these. I just wish…” Louis sniffled, the tears he’d been holding back spilling out. “I wish I could draw the rest of them right. To finish Sophie’s work. Give her a portrait just as good as all the ones she made,”

Clementine leaned forward, wrapping her arms around Louis’ waist. She could feel the heat of his tears as he sobbed against her shoulder. Her own eyes prickled with unshed tears. She remembered the wrinkled, worn-out photo she’d carried of Lee for the year and a half after she lost him. How much joy and pain she felt whenever she looked upon it. The wrenching twist in her gut when she realized it had been lost. The fear over the passing years as certain details of him were lost to her, the permanence of his death sinking in more and more.

She carried all those she’d met and lost in those years on the road within her, the good and the bad. It was the same for Louis. Even within the safety of these walls, the Ericson kids had lost so many of their own. And those lives stuck with him just as much, the ghosts of his past, their memories a blessing as well as a burden.

Eventually the tears stopped. Louis continued to rest his head upon her shoulder. She could feel his heart beat against her. The rhythm was comforting. Grounding. Clementine felt her heart aching in a different way. There was a purity to it, the overwhelming love she felt for Louis filling her heart beyond its former limits. “Thank you. For sharing all this with me,”

“Thanks for listening,” 

They pulled apart slowly. Clementine swept a hand across Louis’ cheek, brushing away the residual tears. “Ready to sleep?”

“Yeah. Let me just put these back,” Louis stood up, the box within his hands. He tucked it away where it had gone before, safe on the highest shelf. Then he scooted the chair back into place and came back to the couch, offering Clementine his hands. 

She took them and came to a shaky balance on her foot, fingers clinging to Louis’ shirt till he had safely positioned the crutches under each arm. They made their way out of the room slowly, taking their time.

“Hey, Clem?”

“Mhm?”

“I love you,”

A happy thrill ran through her at the words. Clementine looked up at Louis, basking in the warmth she saw within his eyes. “I love you too,”

The rest of their walk was silent, grounded in unspoken understanding.


End file.
